AdrianEagle

Once upon a time in a land far away there lived a happy S2k owner who thought that driving was the bees knees of ways to experience the wondrous nature of the freeing F20C that was truly, and without doubt the most exciting and incredibly wonderful experience she had ever enjoyed, apart from the first time she went down on all fours on his large but perfectly formed, silky smooth, and soft to the touch, throbbing, pulsating, waterbed, Cocka-Doodle-Doo could be heard from the waterbed that he had recently erected in his spacious but delightfully airy and yet altogether frightening amazingly constructed Tardis whereupon the rubber chicken sat next to the girl with the orange eyes and began to say in a low but screechy voice that Hondas 'just work', especially dark blue ones which, let's face it, with their jacked up suspension look like they are on stilts or the tyres are over inflated, but that extra inch where it matters, really matters, when trying to attract members of s2ki.com who all couldn't figure out why they needed to cut and paste and then add, but were willing to play along if everyone else didn't mind the burping and belching of smoke emanating from Boxsters driven by an assortment of hob knobs and buffoned, yet somehow remarkably smug, in their lacquered but misguided belief that when compared to the S the Boxter is anything more than a skip on wheels which don't look shiny like their Skoda cousins washed and ready to roll down the windows to exchange hairdressing tips with someone on a Harley who while squeezing surplus oil from his beard said please "Do you have any products that will lubricate my saddlebags and oil my petite curling tongs that I may brandish them with style and aplomb at any passing Audi TT" with more than a hint of the smell of thick sticky brown moist dangling smelly, but nevertheless tasty, yet deceptively pongee Spam flavoured lettuce with a helping of salad cream sprinkled with nuts" "No ya big dick" said Jeremy Clarkson to the girl driving the Z4 with a banana between her beautifully formed headrests, and an industrial hair curler resting lightly on her bleach stained worn out smelly and faded Wrangler low cut, over strained G string revealing a surprisingly small yet amazingly, for a biker, a deliciously attractive sprocket and chain 'necklace' dangled from around her pert yet spotty dog whose nose when shiny and damp smelt almost like rancid butter spread across a dry piece of delicate, yet rather awe inspiring sonnet by Shakespeare whose very essence was such that even he would have bought a useful jar in which to keep unwanted unnecessary and totally useless imbecilic, puerile pieces of Boxster owners' personal plates and cups and saucers for which they had absolutely spoilt with hair products that left a very sticky toffee pudding type secretion under the rim, for which Zaino or Zymol needed to be liberally applied to buff up the bits that were just not visible to the naked man with the small appendage that was driving the Audi TT across a watery, lemon filled abyss of old Top Gear magazines which had many pages stuck together with a strange and whiffy yellow sticky stuff, which Jer denied having been the previous owner of, but Jer, exclaimed the 'ittle short arse one, it must be your it's your colour and I recognise the smell, just then a loud noise came from the lower part of his anatomy which left his jeans in shreds, Arggghhh, cried a nearby lady in a slightly dented CRV notwithstanding nor sitting down could the nearby scratching monkey reach up to grab the big phallus-shaped object that was surprisingly situated near Welwyn garden city where the Herts S2000 owners had once eaten a large aardvark covered in marshmallow flavoured juicy stuff, which brings us back to the twisty turning roads of Scotland and the large pot bellied pigmy that Ali McPosh once unknowingly bought from a drunken StevenM although mistaken for a pigmy it was in fact a live haggis distinct from pigmies by it having 2 short legs for jumping from a dangerous looking ravine that overlooked a Honda dealer which was selling Mugen teapots that did not have the required technical spec sufficient to make the right noise in fact more than just an aftermarket exhaust than a fully blown and highly polished, irregularly shaped, back box with seven dwarves and Snow White clinging on for dear life as they experienced driving in the style of RobM who, earlier that evening, had been on a long road trip where he ran out of fuel and so tried to push his car instead, until he realised he had no trousers on and his breath was coming out in short pants, but don't worry, his dignity was protected as the shortest of pants would have hidden his amazingly hairy, and very short appendage that Essogirl was eyeing up with a glint in her ample bosom that notwithstanding a good ol' tweak and a bit of slap and tickle can always go a long way to satisfying chesh's 60 second, 22Kg, 3 metre long rod which was ready to be used to lever the glass eye that had fallen into Esso girls ample bosom due to changes in air pressure as happens when an aeroplane drops a few thousand feet in mid air, but how did the glass eye get there, was it during an attempt for membership for the mile record for the fastest ever sh@g but then maybe it was because she had a fetish for Audi TT cars and a penchant for San's long and boring stories about his small appetite for hairdresser cars and lardmobiles that eventually led to him buying a second hand Braun hairdryer that a Z4 owner dropped into a tub of hair gel found next to the 'Boudoir Alfonso' front door only 20 meters from the spot where, just three weeks earlier Cheshire Carper had given a live webcast of two long reptilian marmosets that fought bravely, yet somehow ended up entwined in a passionate embrace with fishing tackle remnants which had been carelessly left behind after the last live demo of tackle handling given by Cheshire Carper helped by a bag of maggots and 2 x earth worms dressed in long, seductive, yet surprisingly practical overcoats the they had stolen from Marks and Spencer whilst out doing some shopping for party food with nothing but an umbrella and a sieve borrowed from their local Skoda service centre, who had them sign a receipt as they were taking important road testing equipment and needed to take them back, but eating an ice-cream in a confident, yet somehow strangely Martian-cum-Venezuelan manner rather similar to spanner wielding aliens who arrived on earth in a Santa Hat wearing tardis along with metal canine creatures called Zibzibundis, named after the famous pancake eating roses of the Lower Zambezi which surprisingly often, yet without warning, would squirt each other with fine Canadian Maple syrup and screaming "have a nice day" at each other because, without the warning the traditional penalty of having your council tax bill halved and income tax abolished but capital punishment brought back for obeying the law while wearing daffodils in one's thong, which is an old tradition handed down through many generations of Welsh miners who while wearing their Daffs were known to sing 'I'm a lumberjack' as this was indeed their dream, but not many trees were to be found in "Them there 4 mile deep mine shafts" so most days they just switched off their pit helmets and walked about bouncing into one another for entertainment until, one day Davydd bounced a bit too far causing his sheep to escape his velcro gloved steel grip albeit the sun was shining strangely through the clouds scattered with raindrops forming a beautiful rainbow which brought a tear to the eye of the Welsh sheepdog which notwithstanding its owners perversion of boning the lamb decided to eat all the non welsh armadillos that had strayed across the border from Outer Mongolia which, by a curious anomaly of the rather odd geography of Wales was only a mile from Rickmansworth 's leading hairdressers club where, at that very moment, by an incredible coincidence the mod decided that this thread should be closed at 300 posts due to the amount of words and data in it which would affect how long it takes to load but then someone could start a new one all about the Welsh sheep dog that had wiped it's eyes clear with a shitty paw, met up with his bitch and were discusing the effects on bandwidth when large threads with lots of words in them continued when suddenly a purple-pink hippopotamus landed onto a silk clad Jenny, who asked the animal "are you s Man Utd supporter?", to which the not inconsiderably sized beast replied "I don't believe it" and then "I have just been oggling a piccie of you doing a Janet Jackson and that has caused my Pink bits to go ALL Purple, can I have your autograph" on this lemon meringue that i just belched up from underneath my tatooed left armpit where I also keep my unusually large collection of elastic bands and paper clips which I stole from the Honda garage where they fitted my new, unusually decorated CORNER, and they all lived happily ever after!!!